Before I Go To Sleep
by KatyGrace
Summary: Due to a tragic accident, Max is an amnesiac, waking up everyday not knowing what happened the day before. Fang is there, as always, to care for her, to help. But now Fang is... different. And is he not telling Max the entire story? Based on a novel.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**This story's idea is based off of an actual novel called _Before I Go To Sleep_. Don't sue me! Great book, guys. Mature though. I think I should've waited a couple of years to get it, but oh well.**

**The apocalypse is over, but that doesn't mean Max still doesn't have a hell lot of problems. Uh-oh. And this problem really leaves her really... vulnerable.**

**IMPORTANT:  
><strong>To anyone I've redirected: I've just completely changed this chapter, so read on! Skip the 8-yr-old section. The new part is totally different. Really.

**Kay, sorry for the longness. Read and review!**

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><p>Lying on the floor of my cage, I groaned, feeling totally drained. Just moments earlier, a whitecoat had shoved me in, furiously scribbling down notes as I spat at his feet. The man locked the door, leaving me huddled in a corner, scowling.<p>

"Hi," came a voice beside me, and I lifted my head up to see. It was my friend Fang.

"Hi," I said back, going to the edge of my cage so I could see him better. He was leaning against metal bars, his dark hair messy.

"What did they make you do this time?" he asked me, looking worn.

Massaging my calves, I replied, "They made me run a mile under the hot sun with a bunch of wires attached to me. They wouldn't even give me any water." I remembered how pathetically I had groveled for a drink when I finished.

Fang shot a venomous look towards a lab door, where there were a bunch of mad scientists probably hurting some other poor soul. "I'm sorry, Max."

"So am I," I said, bitter. We sat in silence for a moment.

"What was your time?"

I turned to him. "What?"

"Your time," Fang repeated. "How long did it take you to run the mile?"

"Two minutes and forty-five seconds," I recounted.

Fang gave me one of his small but special smiles, which made my tired self feel a little revived. "Nice."

I grinned back. "Thanks."

"Max, you should get some sleep. Jeb said he would be sneaking us dinner soon."

I looked at him. "Last I checked, I can't eat while I'm asleep, Fang."

He didn't seem miffed by my sarcasm. He's used to it. "I'll wake you. You'll need energy if they take you out again."

"But what about you?" I'm not _that _selfish.

"I'm off for today. I'll be their test monkey again tomorrow, though."

"Which sucks."

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate. Fang isn't much of a talker.

You're probably wondering who I am and what I'm doing in a cage. Well, my name is Maximum Ride, and I named myself because I have no freaking parents. I'm eight years old, and I'm trapped in this hellhole called the School, where these horrible people experiment on me. I am a mutant: I have bird DNA, and I have wings sprouting out of my back. That's right. _Wings_. I can fly. I'm also stronger and faster than normal humans, which is why your mile time may be near eight minutes while mine may be nearer to three.

Jeb Batchelder is a scientist here, but he's nice. He brings us our meals, sometimes giving us an extra roll or two. Jeb tries to make sure that we are examined and not tortured. He can't always save us, though. Needles have punctured my skin more times than I can count, and the smell of antiseptic here disgusts me. In other words, Max want _out_.

My closest friends are Fang, Iggy, and Nudge; and we're all mutant bird children. Fang and Iggy are near my age. Iggy is funny and has great hearing, but the poor sap's blind. Nudge is five, and we think she learned how to talk before she could crawl. She is a total chatterbox.

And I think you've met Fang.

The only other bird child I know here is this little blond toddler with these tiny wings that don't support him much yet. He farts so much that Fang and I nicknamed him the Gasman. The Gasman didn't seem to mind his nickname. He happily tooted and returned to his lunch when Iggy called him by it.

I freaking want to get out of here. The School is a terror. I'm tired of shots and tiring tests and all this rubbing alcohol smell. I wish one day that Fang, Iggy, Nudge, and I could all just fly the coop. I think I'd bring the Gasman along too. He shouldn't need to suffer all these hypos either.

I then dozed off, my forehead against the cage floor.

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><p>I woke up on a soft mattress, under a striped comforter. I noticed a wooden desk topped with a laptop, a bookshelf, and a recliner. A woman's clothing was slung over a chair, and a guy's jeans were on the dresser. Where was I…?<p>

I then noticed the dark figure sleeping beside me, and I did a double take. "Who the heck are you? Where am I?"

The person stirred, their black hair peeking out of the covers. Muffled, a deep voice said, "Max. You're awake."

I stepped off of the bed, my body shaking. I wanted to punch something. "How do you know my name? Whose bedroom is this?"

"Ours."

The face was revealed, and I gasped.

"_Fang_?" I could see his solid body underneath his sleeping shirt, and his scruffy, longish black hair. He wasn't _old_-old, like Jeb, but he definitely wasn't eight. A young adult, maybe.

Fang stood up to his full height, probably around six feet, but he didn't tower over me as much as I'd expect. "Fang… what the heck is going on here? How did we get out of the School? How _old_ are you?"

He didn't seem at all surprised by my rapid-fire questions. "Eighteen. So are you."

"I…" I stared at him, at his boxers and t-shirt, his lean body, muscles. It occurred to me that he was freakishly handsome: what with his obsidian eyes and sharp, angular face and manly toughness. My eight-year-old self recoiled. Hmm.

Fang found me staring at him and smirked. He wasn't the scrawny boy from the cage I had seen just hours ago. "Why are you freaking taller than me?" I demanded.

"Puberty, I think."

Ugh. I suppose the obnoxious quality comes with age. "So tell me. Have I been asleep for over a decade? Why are we so old? What is this place?"

"You trust me, don't you?"

I nodded.

Patiently, he sat down on the bed and explained, "Max. You're my age now. When you were ten years old, Dr. Batchelder saved all us bird kids from the School. At twelve, he left, and we were on our own. We were on the run at fourteen, and you saved the world from an apocalypse not too long after."

My jaw must have dropped to the floor. In shock. "_What_? What is this, I don't even…"

Fang took my hand and planted a kiss on it, making me blush furiously. Is this really the time to tease me? "You're a great leader, Max."

I tore my hand away from him, feeling dizzy. "So if all this _crap_ is somehow true… why do I think I'm eight? Why are we sleeping in the same bed? Where are the other bird kids? And how many died from this apocalypse?" I still stood by the bed, my body rigid and face dripping with nervous sweat. Fang lounged on the bed with an easy expression, totally insensitive. _You're supposed to be comforting me, here, stupid. _

"This crap _is_ true. You were in an accident, Max. Your memory was warped. You wake up everyday thinking you're a teen or little kid. You have both short and long term memory loss. What happened yesterday is totally forgotten for you. That is why you think you're eight."

I gaped at him. I don't cry. Ever. I didn't cry when those fifty needles injected stuff into me back at the School. I didn't cry when I fell from that roof and broke my arm. But now I felt tears welling up into my eyes, hot and salty.

"I… forget? I forget everything? Everything that's ever happened to me? I can't remember anything from freaking _yesterday_? And, on top of it all, you have to put up with me?"

Fang rolled his eyes, making my stomach twist into a tighter knot. "And there you go, turning this on me. I'm fine. I have a working head, Max. Stop it with your constant valiance."

My gaze shot daggers at him. "What's the matter with you! I'm turning crazy over here, and you're making fun of me for _not_ being selfish?"

Fang's face softened. "Max, I'm sorry. But with your condition you get kind of bipolar. I can't help getting exasperated."

I wasn't swayed. "I _realize_ that, Fang. That's what I just said. You of all people should know I don't put myself above everyone else! Now stop being a _butthead_!"

"I'm not a butthead. You're so immature. How to deal with…" Fang sighed.

My tone was sardonic. "Yes, Fang. Because I've _never _been immature."

Fang sighed again, and then inhaled deeply to compose himself. "Look, Maximum. We're sleeping in the same bed because we're together now, as in a couple. The other bird kids are somewhere on the globe at the moment, helping rebuild. The world's human population was slashed in half from the apocalypse." The information startled, sorry, _disturbed_ me greatly. But I wasn't about to eat this all up.

"Wonderful," I remarked, awfully bitter. "I'd like to see some proof of this all before I can carry on believing it."

"You're all the proof you need," Fang replied, shifting to his side on the bed sheets.

It took a second for me to sink my teeth into his words. Oh.

I made my way over to the wall mirror and took in a sharp breath when I got a glimpse of my reflection. I was tall, maybe five feet nine or ten, and I could see how different my body was. I used to be a flagpole. I had much curvier features, a waist, a larger chest (I blushed when I realized this) and stronger, longer arms and legs. My streaked blond hair was tossed over my shoulder, tangled from my restless sleep, and much longer than my usual choppy cut. My brown eyes seemed irritated, and looked like pools of melted chocolate.

"I'm… a grown-up," I murmured in disbelief. "A _woman_."

"And you happen to be pretty sexy woman," said Fang, creeping up behind me to sneak a kiss on the back of my neck. I yelped as Fang barely contained his laughter.

"The heck, Fang? First, if we are supposedly together, I'm sorry to say I don't like you like that yet. Wait for my 'memory' to make an appearance. And second… stop being such a sexist pig!" My palm connected with the back of his head to form a satisfying thumping sound.

Seeming piqued, Fang gritted his teeth and growled, "Max, you should…" He stopped midsentence and took a deep breath. What was going on with him?

"No. _You_ should wise up and kiss me when I'll actually kiss you back!" I glared at him. "I don't exactly feel like a little girl anymore, but I don't have the memories of our… stuff."

Fang raised an eyebrow. "Stuff?"

I ignored the heat creeping up into my cheeks. "Yes. Stuff. And I may seem pretty weak to you, with my stupid amnesia, but I assure you I can still kick your butt."

He merely seemed bemused. "Mmm-hmm."

Gripping his arm, I dragged Fang back to the bed and plopped down with my serious face. "And now you are going to tell me, in full-color detail, _every_thing."

"Everything, huh?" Fang smirked. He's more obnoxious and irritating than I remembered him. My quiet best friend from the cage next door is long gone.

"Yes. And since you seem so keen on talking nowadays, speak up."

_ Okay, Max. Brace yourself. For the ride._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys. Just hear me out, okay?**

**To readers who read the original first chap: I've changed chapter one after deciding on a different plot line. Don't worry, same concept. I beg you to go read it NOW. Future chapters will make no sense if you don't.**

**To readers who just tuned in: Uh... just enjoy this chap!**

**This'll get you thinking but won't reveal any plot details. Unless, of course, you're amazing at picking up foreshadowing.**

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><p>The air was acrid and dusty as predicted, the evening sky an ugly, splotchy burnt orange. How she wished for one of their more scenic routes. Nudge's tawny wings flapped effortlessly behind her as she glided across the sky, her worried coffee eyes scanning the trashed ground beneath her. Only broken debris and the usual handful of construction workers. Sigh.<p>

She spotted the familiar spiked blond hair hundreds of feet below and dived, tucking her wings behind her back as wind whipped at her face and loosened her messy bun. She slowed at the last second to swing her feet onto the solid earth, breaking into a jog. Wisps of black hair clouded her face, and her wings remained outstretched as she approached.

"Gaz. Not here," she told him, terse. Times like these left even Nudge with few words on her tongue.

The Gasman turned to her warily, his hands in his pockets. He was in a baby-blue windbreaker that would've matched his eyes had they not been so dirt-caked. In front of him stood a gray-eyed man in a hard hat, staring out onto the horizon with a sullen expression. He hardly noticed Nudge's exposed mass of feathers. The Gasman motioned for the man to go away, and he left without another word, heading towards a particularly rusty crane in the distance.

"It was a false lead," Gazzy informed Nudge, voice strained, his eyebrows scrunched. "Not even a mistake." He had suffered so much a normal twelve-year-old, or rather _anyone_, should never have to. It had been a long week. And month. And year. Nudge made room for sympathy in her emotional bank of depression.

She pulled him into a hug, and he buried his face into her chest, mumbling something. She replied, trying to soothe, "I know. We have to keep moving. We have to keep helping the Projects and such, and we'll keep looking for - "

Gazzy shook his head miserably, pulling away from her. "No! We_ won't._"

Nudge sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. She wasn't used to this. _She_ was the one supposed to be reassured, not be the one doing the reassuring. But she needed to stay strong, for herself, for Gazzy, for everyone. "I know you don't mean that. We _will_ keep looking. Now let's get back to the others."

The Gasman muttered under his breath as he prepared to fly off alone, but Nudge overheard him, sadness engulfing her at his words. Before she could stop them, tears began to overflow out of her eyes, washing away red dust as they streamed down her face. Grasping Gazzy's hand, she launched herself into the air right beside him.

"I miss her too."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**

**Sorry for the lateness. And shortness. Oh well. Story continues~**

**BTW, there are already two more chapters in the making.**

**Review to tell me what you think.**

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><p>It was late morning. Ten o'clock, maybe? My brain felt short-circuited from the overload of data Mr. Tall, Dark, and Annoying had just threw in my face. He didn't seem to care.<p>

"So," I breathed, pacing circles on the bedroom carpet, "summary Q&A session time."

"Shoot," Fang replied, sitting leisurely with his back to the wooden bed frame, his eyes fixed on something. I was too distracted to notice what.

"Okay. I named myself. Maximum Ride. I was born the daughter of some Hispanic veterinary surgeon, Valencia Martinez, who donated an egg to the School, and Jeb the science guy." **(A/N: LOL)**

"Check."

"When we were ten, Jeb busted all us birdkids out – including baby Gasman's little sister of whom I have no memory – and lived with us. He taught us how to fight and acted like our dad."

"Check."

"And he abandoned us two years later – the butthead – so he could work with the School and learn about the apocalypse. I became leader of the birdkids, coining us 'the Flock' and I took charge."

"Yes, ma'am," Fang saluted, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"This Angel girl was kidnapped by the School, we rescued her from freaking hundreds of miles away and went on the run because the School's Eraser-monster-things knew where our house was."

I'm not cold-hearted; if there's a kid in trouble I'll try to help, but risk the rest of the Flock, my _friends_, for one kid, with all those Erasers and the School tailing us?

Fang must have sensed the annoyance in my voice when I mentioned the rescue. "Mmm-hmm. You really loved Angel. She was your 'little girl', as you put it."

I frowned. How could someone I had cared so much about be so alien to me? Her name didn't even ring a bell. My head is so jacked.

"Whatever. So, we were on the run at the tiny age of fourteen and I found out I was meant to save the world from this company called Itex. We dodged the wolf mutants as we searched New York and other states for info on Itex and our parents."

"Yep."

"We stayed at boss woman Anne's house and went to actual high school until we found out Anne was in league with Jeb. All Erasers died. We fought our way out of Itex in Germany. I found my mom. We helped the group 'Coalition to Stop the Madness' in Antarctica. My mom was kidnapped and sent to the bottom of the ocean. We rescued her."

"Check."

"We got – ick – _together_."

"You didn't think it was so icky back then. But yeah," Fang confirmed, winking at me, and I blushed furiously. Confession/rant time.

"Since you can't take a hint, Fang, _I don't like you_. You're bugging the crap out of me. I don't know what happened during these ten years that turned you into a whole different person, scratch that, _asshole_, but you're hardly my friend, let alone my lover," I spat, and Fang's jubilance took a nosedive.

His expression was indefinable. "Different person?_ Asshole_? Ha-ha, where'd you get that? I just… loosened up a bit," he amended, composing himself. "Your old Mr. Rock isn't any fun, is he? But I am." His muscled arms folded behind his head as he cocked his head at me. I glared at him, hands on my hips until I realized the emotion that had crossed his face before.

Fear?

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><p><strong>AN **

**Eep! Sorry about the odd cliffhanger. We'll set off from here next chap.**

**Bye~**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**

**Hai thar. I really am sorry that I haven't updated this fic. I have a world of plot planned for it.**

**School started and I was all busy, but today's staff development day so... out came this!**

**Here's chapter four! (I think... right?) **

**Next chap is already fully written. (Has been for a while, actually.)**

**If you review like kind readers (I'm sure you are) I'll have the next chapter up real soon. ;)**

**Now read. Read, I say!**

**And remember: more reviews = quicker update.**

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><p>Fear?<p>

_That's perfect_, I thought snidely, _even in my weak state Fang's afraid of me. It looks like he might wet his wittle boxers, even._

"Let's drop this subject," I ground out, "and get back to the FAQ."

In a heartbeat his face returned to normal, normal being his usual "TROLOLOLO I'M SO FREAKIN' HOT" smirk. He ran a hand through his oh-so-perfect silky black hair and said, "Go ahead."

"Okay: the Flock settled down in Colorado for a short while. You and I got sidetracked and went to Vegas – "

" – and we had some real _fun_, too, " he snickered, and I growled at him, unable to stop the blood from rushing to my face. _He is too disgusting!_

My toes gnarled the plushy carpet underneath me as I acknowledged the fact that I was standing in a deluxe master bedroom with peach-colored décor as an eighteen-year-old young woman who wanted to beat the shit out of her sexist ex-boyfrie – sorry, pain-in-the-ass.

But I had to learn to let his comments slide. If I didn't, I'd never be able to carry on conversation with the butthead. So I grit my teeth and continued.

"We came back soon to find the rest of the Flock showing off in what – Los Angeles or something? We then found out about the Doomsday group and managed to dismember branches in Boulder, Houston, and somewhere in Arizona."

"Phoenix," Fang supplied somewhat civilly, so I didn't attempt to bite his head off.

"Phoenix. Right. But the groups in New York City and San Francisco were too big, and apparently they were allied with Itex. So the apocalypse happened with a series bombs dropped all over the globe, killing thousands on impact and millions more soon after. We managed to detonate a couple and stop some freaky homicidal people, but still so many died."

The aura of boredom coming from Fang seemed to evaporate as he began to rub his face with his hands, and I could see the lines riddling his forehead. He murmured, "It was horrible, Maximum."

I frowned. _Since when does he call me_ _Maximum? This must be the second time._ But he seemed so distressed at my words that I didn't try correcting him.

"I'm sure it _was_ horrible. How long did it last? A year?"

His large hands were still over his face as he concurred, "Yes."

"A year of hell, I assume, though I don't remember it," I said nonchalantly before I noticed Fang's body language. Was that a tremor I saw? Was he shaking? Was Fang _crying_? I may have felt a small pang of guilt in my chest but mostly I was _annoyed._

"Hey now," I barked at him, putting my hands on my hips, "normally I'd comfort you, but you and I both know you don't deserve that."

He grabbed the comforter and swept it across his face in a millisecond, revealing his trademark smirk and unchanged, not-tear-swelled eyes. "I don't need comforting, Maximum."

_Yet you just cried like a little bitch. But why are the whites surrounding your dark irises not red? Last I checked, crying had that effect on people. Yeah, that's not weird at all._

But I held my tongue (and my thoughts) and went on all business-like. "I'm glad, Fang. Now let's keep the river flowing: So once the raging battles were over, we were sixteen and for the next year we patched ourselves up and helped rebuild."

"Yep."

"Then, at age seventeen, something – we still don't know what it is – managed to knock me in the skull so hard that_ this_ happened," I griped, my tone bitter as I gestured towards my head.

"All true."

"I lost my memory. And that's where your explanation ends. From that point on, you just watched over me… or? How much has my condition improved? What happened for that whole year? How did I get _here_, in this random house?"

Fang smiled coolly at me as he wrung out his hands, and my blood boiled again. _Keep your cool, Max_, I reminded myself.

"How about I get you some breakfast first? Time is still the same, you know, and it's eight thirty. I'm sure you're pretty hungry," he told me, and I opened my mouth to berate him before my stomach emitted a low growl. Fang chuckled as he got out of bed, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt.

"Fine," I gave in. "An intermission. But I want more out of you after I eat."

He was gleeful as he escorted me out of the room. "Ooooh, Maximum, I didn't know you liked it like that – "

"Shut it, you pervert," I growled, accentuating my last word with a punch in his side. His expression darkened for a moment, and I suspected he would actually punch me back.

He didn't. But I knew he wanted to. It made me uneasy, even though I had already assured myself I wasn't afraid of him.

I forgot my anger in order to take in the house. The two of us trailed through a hallway racked with homey furnishings like paintings and knick-knacks, passing ajar doors leading to empty rooms. A small nick in the reserved shade of pale lime wall paint somehow managed to catch my eye, but I dismissed it. We reached a neat kitchen of wooden cabinets and ceramic countertops after traveling down a flight of stairs.

"Requests from the Café de Fang, madam?" Fang asked me in a stupid accent, leaning against the fridge as he twirled a spatula around his finger.

I gave him a sweet smile and settled into a chair, propping my feet onto the kitchen table.

"Surprise me."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**

**Erm... here's chapter cinco. Not much else to say, really.**

**Enjoy, peeps. :D**

**Oh, and remember to review. ;)**

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><p>He annoyed me. He was cocky, insensitive, and answered all my questions with an irritating smirk. He was freaking <em>perverted<em>, his hands brushed my chest a few times too many to be accidental. He greeted my upset outbursts with a roll of his eyes. I wanted my best friend, _my_ Fang, the quiet boy that always looked out for me, the one who always had my back. He was my only break from the School, someone to talk to and joke around with.

I missed him.

With his back facing me, present-day eighteen-year-old Fang stood at the stove, using a wooden spoon to stir the eggs he was making for me. Whether he did it because he cared or because he was obligated to I don't know. I saw his head bend down, dark hair nearing his shoulders as his right arm shook the frying pan.

My view changed.

The kitchen was no more. I was in a noisy classroom, complete with bustling students, a sour-faced teacher, and dusty chalkboard. A shrill bell rung in my ears, and I in turn sat up to gather my belongings. Fang, looking much younger but still in his teens, was in the same bent over position; only he was sitting at a desk, wearing navy blue dress pants and a long-sleeved white collared shirt. A school uniform? His spoon was replaced with a yellow pencil in his left hand, a sheet of notebook paper in place of the frying pan. A big-busted, large-lipped redheaded girl was at his arm, giggling at him in a skimpy skirt. Fang didn't speak to her, but he didn't shoo her away either.

I strode up to them, an alien feeling of jealousy coursing through my veins, and told Fang stiffly, "It's time to walk home, _ladykiller_. Ariel needs to feed the dog, and Jeff's hungry."

"The ladykiller's just finishing this assignment, sis," Fang explained, turning towards me with a smug look on his face. I wanted to slap it off of him.

"Well hurry up, or we'll leave without you," I snapped, brushing past him, my textbooks under my arm.

"Won't Anne wonder where I am?" Fang called to my retreating back as I left the classroom.

"Don't care," I yelled back, striding down the tile hallway to look for the Flock.

My super hearing picked up some whispered words from the redheaded skank: "Nick, what is _with_ your sister?"

"Dunno, Lissa. Maybe she has a stick shoved up her butt," he suggested, the laughter obvious in his voice. I would bet my wings in a heartbeat that he said that extra loud just to make sure I heard him.

I gritted my teeth and met a lanky strawberry blonde guy around Fang's age, a preteenage African-American girl with pale highlights in her dark bangs, a boy with spiked yellow hair, and a cute little girl with blond curls which framed her face like a halo, all at the school's front doors.

"Something wrong, Max?" the younger boy asked at the look on my face, ending his sentence with a loud fart. The rest of us fanned our faces.

"No, Gazzy. Let's head for Anne's," I replied, still refusing to call it _home_.

"What about Fang?" the strawberry blond asked, his sightless blue eyes looking over my shoulder.

"Never mind him, Iggy. He's a big boy, he can walk home by himself," I replied, teeth still clenched.

The little girl looked at me with a troubled expression, as if she was reading my thoughts. She opened her mouth to speak, but I shushed her and stepped outside.

"I bet Total's hungry by now, Angel, sweetie. And I have a ton of chemistry homework. Let's head home."

The Flock minus Fang then began to trek through the forest, the shortcut to Anne's, backpacks loaded on our silly uniform clad selves.

The afternoon sun, the greenery of trees, the weight of the textbooks held to my chest, and the inexplicable envy inside of me then evaporated right before my eyes, and I was back in Fang's and my kitchen. The wooden cabinets and greasy smell of breakfast cooking took place of the weedy grass and earthen aura.

I gaped at present-day Fang as he handed me a porcelain plate loaded with scrambled eggs and toast. He gave me a perplexed look.

"What?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**

**So... I wonder who's reading this? This is my favorite story to write, so here is Chapter 6, long overdue. **

**That's all. **

**Enjoy. :)**

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><p>"What? Max, what is it?"<p>

Fang's long, lean fingers tap the table impatiently as his dark eyes implore me.

_T-t-t-tap, t-t-t-tap, t-t-t-tap._

This perplexes me. Even with my amnesia, something in the back of my mind says that Fang never idly tapped his fingers…

"I think I just had a flashback," I tell him, staring down at my scrambled eggs.

Raising an eyebrow, he takes the adjacent seat. "Well, enlighten me, Maximum."

I frown. "Well, we were both in school – class just ended – and there was a slutty redhead fawning over you… and – and I had this boiling feeling in the pit of my stomach, I'm not sure what it was, and I didn't know why I felt that way – "

"Jealousy," Fang supplies, crossing his arms across his chest. Is that a smirk on his face?

"Possibly." I glare at him. "Unfortunately."

He shrugs, but the smirk persists.

"Well, I stormed out of the classroom when you wouldn't agree to come home, and then I met four others… I think older versions of Gazzy, Iggy, and Nudge. And a girl that looked like he could be Gazzy's sister… Angela – Angelina – "

" – Angel," he corrects. "Ah, that was back in Virginia, Max. We were fourteen, and the ginger was going out with me, and you were all jealous because you were in love with me and all that but you hadn't yet realized."

"I thought as much," I say slowly, taking a bite of the eggs. "For a jerk, you sure make good eggs."

He rolls his eyes and says very sarcastically, "Thanks. Well, _you_ can make better eggs than I can."

I glower at him as best I can while wolfing down my toast and retort, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He takes a napkin and swipes the crumbs off my chin with a flick of his hand. "It means you can't cook for your life, Max. What did you _think_ it meant?"

My face burns red. I sense my eight-year-old self mentality is gone, but the memories are the same, which is the frustrating part.

Fang only laughs. "At least you're getting your dirty teenage mind back."

"You wish."

"Yeah, I do actually."

"Ugh."

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><p>"Say it. Say it, out loud," Cedric – er, I mean Edward – says, sporting his usual sleepwalker appearance.<p>

"A mermaid, you're a freaking mermaid," I yell at the TV screen before K Stew, as boring as ever, whispers, '_Vampire_.'

Fang is watching too, from another sofa chair, his face a mixture of revulsion and amusement. He idly sips a decaf coffee. Another weird attribute I never thought Fang would have, didn't he love caffeine?

I keep getting these weird sensations that Fang's habits aren't true. But it can't be, he remembers everything, I'm the one with the amnesia. All I know for sure is that he has changed more than I could ever imagine.

_Changed for the worse, unfortunately_. _Fan-freaking-tastic._

My head pangs again, pain pulsating like a heartbeat, and my hand inadvertently clutches my forehead in reflex. These headaches are Erasers punching and clawing the walls of my skull; they are little eruptions of pain when I least expect it. The Advil hasn't kicked in yet. I can feel Fang watching me through the corner of his eye but I ignore him, clenching my teeth and focusing my gaze on the television screen.

My mind isn't working properly, my thoughts are disconnected and Fang gets annoyed on the seldom occasion when I can't finish my sentences. He may be my caretaker, but I still can't stand him.

Does that idiot not realize _my_ annoyance is so much greater than his? I'm only the one that has to put up with a _broken brain_. Fang, you retard, get your panties out of a twist.

Melodramatic music begins. K Stew and Cedric – I mean Edward – kiss. Yuck, why the hell did Fang get this movie out of everything else we could've watched? To irritate me, probably.

There are no more TV channels. No Food Channel. No Nickelodeon. No CNN. Who am I kidding, the actors' bodies must be smoldering somewhere in dilapidated Hollywood right now. I had almost forgotten that half of the world outside me is obliterated. I wince with guilt.

Fang hooked up the DVD player. I feel like a worthless hack, I'm indoors watching movies while people decompose ten miles from my house. Wonderful.

I wanted to go do _something,_ even something trivial, but Fang pretty much ordered me not to:

_Can I go?  
><em>_No.  
><em>_Why not?  
><em>_Max, you _cannot_ leave this house.  
><em>_Why the hell not?  
><em>_You have to be monitored 24/7 –  
><em>_What?  
><em>_I… meant that your wings are still weak; they need conditioning after such a long time of inactivity. Not to mention your blond head is still banged up, believe it or not.  
><em>_I swear, you asshole, if you call me a dumb blonde one more time, I'll –  
><em>_You'll what?_

Silence.

_Fine, I won't go. But it's my choice, not yours.  
><em>_Of course it is, Maximum._

I hate to admit it, but Fang's right. I'm in no condition to go outside. My wings are stiff and my body isn't in mint condition. The muscles are there, but I haven't used them in so long…

So we're sitting here, watching Twilight (barf). I know Fang has been, and still is, watching me. He assumes I'm an immature, naïve eight-year-old with a dirty mind (doesn't that just sound lovely?) but I'm on high alert. I don't want to spend another year in a makeshift hospital. One year of sleeping is already too much. I am Maximum Ride, and I will _not _be useless.

This is why I have to present myself as stable. And Fang _will_ help me, despite his asshole-tendencies.

It is one in the afternoon. I have recollected a total of two memories. The first was Fang flirting with that Lissa, obviously. The second was of Fang carrying me, bridal style, as he flew high above the ground, the rest of the Flock in close proximity. My head was in more pain than it is now, and I saw white lights dancing before my eyes as I looked up at him. Dark wings extended and gliding through air with ease, I knew he was several years younger, and his eyes seemed kinder. He shifted my body in his arms ever so slightly and asked me, _What have you been eating, rocks? _I retorted with, _Why, is your head missing some?_ And though my headache plagued me, I managed a small smile before his windswept hair disappeared, along with the clear blue sky framing his face…

Present Day Fang couldn't figure out the exact time that happened, which I found odd because the recollection was much clearer than the first of him and Lissa. We came to the conclusion that it was some time before he left me but after we retrieved Angel from the School.

"Max? Maximum? What, you not enjoying the movie?" Fang quips, and I sit up, I hadn't realized I had lied down. Meanwhile, K Stew and Cedric – damn, just assume when I say Cedric I mean Edward – display their terrible 'acting' skills as Shark Boy makes an appearance. And by Shark Boy I mean Taylor Lautner. I will never get all these celeb names straight.

I bury my face into a sofa cushion. "You know I hate this movie. Turn it off," I say through the pillow, my voice muffled.

With a shrug, he ejects the disc. "Want to watch something else?"

"No."

"Do you need anything? You okay?" I find Fang at my side, massaging my shoulders in a sudden instant. I flinch and peel his fingers off, the massage aspect was relaxing, but it involved him touching me, which I am still testy about. I remember all his smirks and snide remarks and feel the urge to be bitchy, so I lash out, "Do you really _care _if I need anything?"

I expect him to be angry, but he laughs, which frightens me more than if he would have yelled. He chuckles softly, "You're hilarious."

He heads toward a door with a weird smile on his face. "Don't go outside, Maximum."

"Uh-huh."

"Stay in here, Max."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't go outside_,_" he repeats.

_I'm an amnesiac, boy, I'm not deaf. _"I won't."

He turns to leave before adding one more thing: "And I know you might hate me, but remember that I'm all you've got."

I frown at his retreating back and whisper, "You might be all I've got, but I could do better."

It was too quiet for him to hear. Not that he would care if he did.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Review. Do it now! :)**


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